Weeping With The Rain
by Shipperwolf
Summary: Lincoln faces a difficult situation during a latenight thunderstorm. LS Gen
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! Here is yet another bittersweet L/S angst fic to sink your teeth into!

Was going to make it one long chap but got lazy---it was late N' i was nodding off in front of the screen. Enjoy n plz R&R!

* * *

A small flash jolted through the room, jerking him awake.

Eyes snapped open.

His head shifted slightly.

Thunder rumbled softly a moment later, solidifying his guess of what had woken him.

Lincoln's freshly shaven head lifted to peer over to the window beside the couch, watching as a second flash of lightning illuminated the view of the Panama landscape outside, rain pouring in sheets.

The hotel creaked against the wind, and he briefly considered turning on the television to make sure a hurricane wasn't going to blow it away.

Reassuring himself that it was merely a thunderstorm, his eyes grew heavy and he sighed in frustration of having to ignore the sounds outside in order to go back to sleep.

It had taken him long enough the first time…his thoughts occupied by his brother's current incarceration in the prison on the other side of town.

Another soft clap of thunder sounded, closer than the previous and signaling the heaviest part of the storm. The wind grew wild, the rain came down even harder, and Lincoln gritted his teeth against all the noise.

Then, during a quick moment in which the wind died, rebuilding no doubt for another blast at the brittle building, his ears picked up a different sound.

At first he thought it was the mewl of kitten, scurrying down the hallway or begging to come in from the rain outside the window.

But as the storm began surging and calming in second-long shifts, he realized it was coming from inside the room.

And he knew immediately what--who it was.

The brunette lying in the twin bed across the room….Sara.

Her sobs caused a slight tremor to wrack his own emotions.

Amidst the howls building in the wind, Lincoln could hear her, crying softly, her back turned away from his direction.

The storm outside no longer held his attention.

No amount of thunder or wind could drown out the horribly pained sounds of a woman sobbing.

He knew the cause, of course. The same cause of his distressed sleep.

Michael.

He knew, with all certainty, that she loved his little brother.

Just as he knew that Michael loved her in return.

With a sigh he watched her shaking form within the sheets.

He felt her pain, in more ways than one.

He missed his brother, worried for him, felt hopeless and helpless to save him.

And he also knew the pain of being without the one he loved.

But despite his empathy, Lincoln resolved to turn away from the sight before him.

He could not, should not, make it known that he was watching her cry.

She would be embarrassed, more than likely, and then he would be faced with the dilemma of comforting her.

After everything that had happened to him, to THEM, he was unsure that he, of all people, could comfort anyone about anything.

He would not try.

She would stop eventually…she would fall asleep.

Lincoln told himself this, and closed his eyes tight against the lightning coming through the window.

But as he tried desperately to ignore both the storm and the woman who wept across the room, he knew he would not find sleep.

He sighed in frustration, and then pity as Sara's cries grew more prominent.

And then his heart clenched tight at the sound of her voice cutting through the storm.

"God…please help him."

Lincoln sat up and felt heat burning his own eyes.

He could not lay quiet any longer.


	2. Chapter 2

here's the 2nd and final chappy--this was a short one lol!!

enjoy ppls--plz r&r!

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She had tried so hard not to cry in front of Lincoln.

Sara knew the man had to have been going through enough, with the brother he loved so dearly once again risking and sacrificing everything for the people he cared for.

She briefly wondered if he felt guilt for Michael's imprisonment, and the very thought made her sobs inevitably louder.

For she knew it was not Lincoln who was at fault--it was herself.

It was because of HER that he had opened that door and surrendered himself in her place.

It was because he loved her…because she loved him.

For them, love seemed more a curse than a blessing.

It brought them more pain than joy.

The lightning illuminated the room, and Sara could make out Lincoln's silhouette on the couch. He shifted at the sound of her choked sob; turning over, she desperately hoped he had not awoken.

She could not keep her tears bottled up anymore. She had tried, for quite awhile since Lincoln had caught up to her and found them a play to stay. She had tried to remain strong, hopeful…

But her hope was failing now, replaced by guilt and loneliness.

She missed him.

All she had wanted was to be with Michael, lying on a beach, listening to the waves, picking up seashells and holding each other in the water.

It was like a dream that was about to become reality…

And instead it became a nightmare.

Every night since Michael was taken away she had dreamt of him, of her last moments with him, and every night she had forced her feelings down and kept the tears from falling.

But this night, as the wind howled and the rain beat the windows with rage, Sara succumbed to her pent-up emotions and everything came rushing forth with as much strength as the tropical storm outside.

Lincoln's frequent shifts were heard but not acknowledged.

She knew the noise outside was probably bothering him, and she thanked the thunder for crashing so often to drown out her cries.

He could not hear her, of that she was sure.

She didn't want him to hear her.

She didn't want him to see her as such: face red and puffy, eyes bloodshot, skin damp, nose running. It was the last thing she needed.

And so she coaxed the storm onward in between her sniffles and sobs, Michael's face, voice, and kiss bombarding her mind every second she lie awake.

She was so tired now, tired of crying and tired of worrying.

But worry she did, and the tears she could not stop.

They grew louder still, Michael's voice admitting his love for her encouraging her pain.

Sara stared into the darkness of the room, facing the wall, and found herself doing something she had not done in what seemed years…

She prayed.

Small, simple, and weak, she whispered words to God, for only He could possibly help them now.

"God…please help him." And with those words the sound of footsteps padded from the couch to stop beside the bed.

Weight was felt on the bed at her back, and Sara realized that he had been awake the entire time.

Her shaking back stilled at the feeling of his hand pressing against it.

"Sara, it's…okay--it's gonna be okay…" Lincoln's voice cracked as it slid through her ringing ears.

He was fighting his own tears.

HE was being strong for HER.

Lincoln, who had just escaped death for a crime he didn't commit, who had been on the run for weeks and had lost so much doing so, who had been with his brother one moment and then lost him the next..

Lincoln was fighting to be strong for her.

Turning around, Sara threw her arms around his neck and pulled him close, ignoring his startled jump.

She would let him be strong for her.

She needed it.

Amidst the thunder still crashing heavily outside, his whisper demanded her attention, lulling away the tears.

"I don't know what I have to do, Sara, but I promise….I'll figure this out. I'll get him back to us…to you…." Another hesitating break signaled a swallowed lump in his throat, "Don't cry, Sara…go to sleep now…"

His words almost had the adverse effect, and her crying fit nearly continued before a small sound made her grin despite herself.

A brief peck had been delivered onto the top of her head, and something about it suddenly calmed her.

A feeling she had never felt before brought temporary solace into her personal storm, allowing her to close her eyes against the chest holding her up.

The feeling of the protection, support, and comfort that only a brother could give.

Against the soft heartbeat beneath her ear, Sara wiped the last tear from her cheek and focused on the rain that now slowed to a steady shower, and Lincoln's promise echoed in her head as she found sleep.

* * *

The storm was quiet, her tears had ended, and Lincoln felt himself smile slightly.

It felt good to give comfort.


End file.
